


Oh, Brother

by Upupanyway



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Questionable Fashion Choices, Weird relationship, a bit of sugar daddy vibes, attempts at humour i'm very sorry, crack ship, dating your bff's brother is weird especially if it's a twin who shouldn't exist, foggy makes bad choices, gen bc there's no endgame ship, mad jealousy on matt's part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Mike Murdock shows up unexpectedly again. This time, to proposition Foggy. Matt doesn't like it one bit.





	Oh, Brother

There was a very narrow range of circumstances that could converge into something resembling a scenario where Foggy would ever hook up with Mike Murdock. So, most of the time, Foggy didn't even let it cross his mind.

Frankly, none of it made any sense because Mike shouldn't have even existed in the first place. And otherwise, he was kind of an asshole and Foggy didn't like to associate with assholes. 

Foggy was also aware that Matt, his best friend, might also be an asshole, but at least  _ Matt  _ didn't accessorize weirdly about it.

But.

Okay.

_ The circumstances lined up. _

Firstly, Foggy had to be caught wildly off guard. Check.

"What the hell are you doing in my office?" Foggy spat instead of greeting him. This one had to be Mike. His yellow patterned suit and trilby combo really screamed it.

"Just missed you, babyface," he replied, an easy lean to his posture where his dirty boots rested on his very expensive rosewood desk.

"Leave," Foggy demanded, hanging up his overcoat and waiting for Mike to get up.

"Why so harsh, doll? Didn't you miss me?" Mike smirked much like Matt smirked, but it was far more insufferable.

Direct action seemed to be the way to go. Foggy lifted Mike's legs off the desk for him and stared into those gaudy polarized shades. "I have work to do, Michael."

"Franklin, baby. Look at me. We've been friends for a long while-"

"You snapped into existence, like, yesterday. And upon meeting me you aimed a gun at my head, so I would beg to differ."

"And I've been doing some honest work recently. I was wondering if I could take you out sometime."

Foggy breathed deeply. He wasn't angry, per se, but he was definitely questioning his reality right then. So he just booted up his computer and ignored the situation preventing him from sitting down.

"So what do ya say to some ritzy dining and a show?" He actually sounded hopeful, which. What?

"Mike," Foggy enunciated slowly, his brows twisting in concern and confusion. "Are you asking me out?"

"Would that be a problem?"

"No. I mean, where's this coming from?"

"Foggy Nelson, light of my life. I have very distinct memories of us being together, and I wanted to give it a shot."

"They're not real memories."

"But I'm real now. I know you don't remember them, or maybe those are Matt's memories, but that doesn't change the fact that I had a feeling for you once upon a time. Or, I guess always and never because time doesn't work the same for me."

"Are you serious right now?" Foggy sputtered, genuinely shocked at this entire exchange.

"As the plague. I'm an honest man, now, Fogs. Got a big boy job crunching numbers with the best of them."

Foggy knew Mike worked for Fisk. He also knew that so did half the city, and more than a few of them wouldn't consider themselves crooked. "And the gun at your hip?" Foggy pointed out, eyeing the weapon that rested menacingly in its holster. He didn't want a repeat of his last interaction with Mike.

"Fully licensed, lawyer man. And her name is Gertrude, if you don't mind."

"You're awful."

"So that's a no, then?"

"It's a resounding no, Mike." Foggy tried to shove him off of the chair again, and this time, Mike let him. Only, he also sighed very deeply and stopped by the door to look forlornly at Foggy.

"That's a real shame, Foggy. I already had a reservation for two at Fulgencio's for Friday. And their happy hour starts at 8."

Foggy frowned at him intently as Mike slowly inched his hand toward the knob. Mike quirked an eyebrow at him, daring.

"Fine," Foggy agreed, though he did not enjoy it. "But only for the leche fritas and only if you don't wear that stupid patterned suit."

So maybe Foggy was an easy person to ask out. But to think about hooking up with  _ Mike _ ? He had to be in very good spirits. Which, also, check.

"I can't believe I'm celebrating our victory here with  _ you _ instead of Matt.” Foggy pouted a little, looking over the menu.

"You agreed to it," Mike reminded him, flipping idly through the leather bound pages in front of him. Foggy didn't dwell on how weird it was to see Matt's face actually read a goddamn menu with his eyes because he'd only ever seen it done one way. It was eerie.

"Why are you wearing those shades indoors?" Perhaps a touch snide, but mostly curious.

"It completes the look." Mike said, gesturing to the rest of him. Green and electric pink tartan. Almost uglier than the yellow gridlines.

"I told you not to wear patterns."

"You told me not to wear that one  _ specific _ pattern," he countered, matter-of-fact.

Foggy only grimaced harder. "I get enough pedantry on my day to day. I don't need it from you, too."

Mike smirked that smirksome smirk. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Nothing to say about hypocrisy, then?"

"What are you talking about?" Foggy gawked.

"I mean look at what you're wearing. Not that you're not dashing, but it's hardly conservative."

"A subtle pinstripe and herringbone bowtie to do not a fashion disaster make," Foggy stated prudishly.

Mike leered from behind his bolo tie. "So I'm a disaster now?"

And the conversation, well, it sort of flowed. Which Foggy did not anticipate. Perhaps their endless supply of wine helped.

Which brings us to the  _ circumstances _ again. Because Foggy would have had to have been very drunk.

On his somethingteenth sloshing glass, Foggy actually laughed at one of Mike's jokes. They asked for the bill and they headed out in good humour. Before they knew it, Foggy had invited Mike over to his place to check out his collection of shitty imitation faberge eggs.

Except they were in Foggy's room, and Mike was still reeling with wine on his breath. So maybe we couldn’t blame Mike too hard if he had the wrong idea when he pulled Foggy onto the bed and kissed him.

And Foggy wasn't really up for much thinking, then. He was just lost in the feeling of being full on tomatoes and garlic and having had spent the better part of the last half hour laughing. He was lost in the feeling of a warm body against his, a wet mouth on his. But then he remembered who it was all attached to.

"Wait!" Foggy jerked as he came back to himself. "We can't do this. I'm not doing this."

'Why not?" Mike whined, chasing Foggy’s lips a little. He had taken off his glasses at some point, so Foggy was really hit with the full power if that Murdock pout. But he couldn't. Foggy had standards.

"Just. I can't." Foggy shuffled off of the other man and lay down on his bed to stop the spinning.

"Is it because of Matt? Because fuck that guy." Mike lay down beside him, shying a hand towards Foggy's. It was a tender, discordant moment in Foggy's life. One that he wasn't in any state to deconstruct.

"It's not Matt. It's everything. And besides, I'm pretty drunk. I don't want to do anything I regret later. Go home, Mike."

Foggy tracked his movement through the bedroom. The rustling of the sheets as Mike got off the bed. The footsteps and how they shook the floor. The waves of real hurt emanating from the figure as he left the apartment.

Foggy shouldn't be feeling guilty, should he?

-

The next day, he called Matt, who was understandably upset. "You ditched me to go on a date with  _ Mike _ ? You know he hates me, right?"

"Last I heard, he was trying to make amends, right?" Foggy ventured, heart pounding with an emotion he couldn't quite name.

"You're not seriously defending him, are you? He put a glock in your face! And then he didn't talk to me for a year and a half!"

"He's had some… developments since then," he tried to explain. He felt the need to say.

"What? Working for Fisk? Buying even worse suits than when I was him?" Matt shot back, incredulous.

"You know what? I'm not equipped for this right now. It's not like I like Mike, and I refuse to play his defense."

"Then don't! Just don't talk to him again!"

"But I feel so guilty! He tried holding my hand after we kissed and I just kicked him out."

"You  _ kissed _ ?"

"I was drunk!"

"He  _ took advantage _ of you?"

"Matt, you're not listening!"

"Yes, I am!" Matt all but shouted. "He coerced you into a date by flaunting his gun in your office and got you drunk enough to get you to do other things. You're not talking to him again."

Foggy sighed. He still had a lot of questions, but he'd have to leave them for later.

"Anyways, are we still doing dinner today, Fogs? I have to head out by nine." Matt was still antsy, but he wouldn't explode about it. At least, not that Foggy could tell over the phone.

"Yeah. Let's do it. Come to mine, I got some fresh bread this morning."

-

The conversation didn't end. It just… morphed.

"Okay, can I just say," Foggy started, picking at his salad with a fork. "Mike seemed to genuinely have affections in my direction."

"You don't need attention from him. You're better than that." Matt stabbed at his veggies.

"No, I mean, they're memories you created and I've only had one interaction with him in the real world. Why did you come up with a brother who wanted to woo me in the first place?"

Matt blushed, but before the moment was over, he settled into a stoic frown. "So somehow this all my fault?" he deflected.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. You couldn't have known that he'd come to life. Like, was it an identity thing? Is that why you flirted with me and Karen so much back then?"

Matt's face went on a bit of a journey. It landed back on neutral, eventually. "Yes."

"So exactly what memories does he have of me? What stories did you make up to justify him acting like that?"

"Why do you need to know?" Matt asked defensively. Definitely hiding something.

"Maybe I ought to be prepared for something? And it's also kind of weird to have a person walking around whose whole history doesn't line up with ours."

"No, you don't have to know. He's just incorrigible."

Foggy scrutinized him carefully. "What are you hiding, Murdock?"

"Nothing!" Matt croaked, far too quickly.

Then, there was a knock on the door. "Foggy?" A familiar voice called. "Sorry if I'm interrupting, but I came to make amends."

Foggy looked to Matt. Matt shook his head and gesticulated wildly for Foggy not to answer the door.

Foggy made the executive decision to answer it anyway.

He opened the door a sliver and poked his head out.

"What?" he greeted sharply. In answer, he was met with a lovely bouquet of roses.

Mike almost seemed bashful. "I'm sorry. For whatever I did. Do you want to give me another shot?"

And Foggy didn't have the patience to argue, because Murdocks are persistent bastards and Foggy was curious at the very least.

"Fine, whatever. Pick me up at 7 on Tuesday. From the office." Foggy slammed the door in his face.

The door knocked again, and when Foggy opened it, the bouquet landed in his arms and then he was watching Mike make his way to the elevator. Foggy watched the receding form and noted that his hat had an actual feather on it.

Guiltily, Foggy turned back to his apartment.

"What the hell, Foggy?" Matt shouted, looking about two seconds away from wringing someone's neck. "Going on one weird date might be excusable, but a  _ second _ ? Are you really planning on seeing him? My own brother?"

"You didn't even have a brother until recently."

"That's not better," Matt frowned at him even harder and Foggy didn't quite know what to make of this situation.

"Is he planning anything nefarious, do you think?" Foggy asked, taking his seat beside Matt again.

Matt paused and took in his surroundings, brow furrowing in displeasure. "No. He seems excited."

“Then it’ll be fine. At least I’m not going to die, probably.” Foggy worried at the bouquet in his hands. “I should find these some water. Wow, there really is a dozen of them. I think he’s really serious about romancing me.”

“You can’t be serious,” Matt whined.

“Well, I still have a few vases lying around somewhere.”

“Not that. Dating Mike.” Foggy rummaged through a cabinet and took out a ceramic vase. It was unpainted, rustic, but it did the job.

“No, I won’t seriously date Mike. But it’s not the worst thing in the world to be appreciated every now and then.”

Matt kept frowning. He frowned until the lines of his face set that way. He didn’t let up until he got changed into his Daredevil suit and jumped out Foggy’s window. And even then, Foggy figured there wasn’t much to smile about for the rest of the night.

-

So he went on that date with Mike. And another. All things considered, it wasn’t Foggy’s worst relationship. Except Matt really, really hated it.

“You motherfucker,” he accused one night as he entered Foggy’s home. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“That’s personal,” Foggy said in non-answer.

“You know he’s not really into you,” Matt told him snidely. “He’s only like that because I… You know what? Never mind. He’s not  _ real _ , Foggy. He’s just a character I made up years ago.”

“Certainly felt real last night,” Foggy mumbled.

“Stop being nasty this instant!” Matt ordered, plopping down onto Foggy’s couch and shifting about as if he could replace Mike’s scent with his.

“Okay, but let’s just consider him for a second. What differentiates him from any of my other boyfriends?"

"He's my brother."

"That's inconsistent. Is he real or isn't he?"

"He doesn't share our history."

"So what differentiates him from a stranger? Why consider him a brother at all?" Foggy sat down across from Matt, like a real questioning.

"He's…" Matt was deciding on a tactic and Foggy hoped he would just picked honesty. "He's like the worst parts of me, Foggy. He's arrogant and brash and inconsiderate. And you're choosing to date him.

"He's done a lot of growing since, Matty. You don't have to worry about me."

"And what about all the memories he has? What's he told you?" Matt asked shiftily.

"Well, he said he remembers hanging around us when Karen was around, for the most part. Twin orphan, estranged from his brother. He said he also remembers things from college? He seems pretty adamant that we had a fling back in the day. Which is weird, because he didn't even go to school with us. It seems to have resolved into a tragic missed connection where we were long distance?" Matt shrunk in his seat, clearly knowing something. "Actually, what's that all about? Why'd you write in a backstory where we were college sweethearts?"

"Don't worry about it, Foggy. It was a weird musing I had back in the day."

"Did you imagine we dated?" Foggy asked, something half dawning in his brain. "Did you create an alternate version of yourself who dated me? Were we a tragic missed connection?"

"Foggy, stop. That was a long time ago."

Foggy took the time to consider it. He knows it's too little too late, but he'd also be lying if he said he never considered it. But it  _ was _ a long time ago, and as it stood at that moment, they had safely navigated the mess of feelings and found good footing on the other side. It would be irresponsible to stir the pot now. And there was Mike to consider.

"Okay. Sure."

But Matt didn't look satisfied. Foggy didn't feel it, either.

-

Mike Murdock was surprisingly blasé about his affection. He would buy Foggy nice shirts and fancy meals, and it was hard not to be affected a little by the feeling of being provided for. Some days he would even saunter into the office with a gift, call Foggy a really embarrassing nickname, and saunter out in his snakeskin boots and matching fedora. Matt always hid behind his desk when these things happened.

"Gifts aren't the same as being in love, you know," Matt warned him tightly, shovelling lo mein into his mouth.

"I know," Foggy agreed. "It's not like I can't get this stuff myself or anything. It's just nice to hear that he thinks of me when he's out doing whatever it is he does. And it's not like I don't do things for him."

"Morning blowjobs don't count."

"Jesus Christ, can you smell that on my breath or something?"

"Yes," Matt grimaced very hard. As if he could concentrate enough to make it stop.

"That's not all I meant. I'm a real adult with a real income, too. We take care of each other."

Matt's displeasure seemed to grow tenfold as he chugged from his bottle of water.

"Matt, stop making a fuss. I'll let you know if it ever gets too weird."

"It's already weird! Do you love him?"

"You can't ask that! Just let me be happy for a while!"

"And he makes you happy?!"

"For now!"

Matt stopped. He leaned back in his seat. He sighed deeply and made a motion as if to pray, which was admittedly excessive.

"Fine," he said finally. "I'll back off. But keep me updated. If he ever puts you in any danger, I will beat him up. I don't care that he's me."

"He's not  _ actually  _ you, though," Foggy pointed out. Dating Mike didn't feel like how he imagined dating Matt to feel. There were no moments where he forgot who he was seeing. Not anymore, at least. They were entirely separate entities who only happened to share a face in Foggy’s imagination.

"Yeah. We're not." Matt finished his meal and didn't mention it again. But he looked like he kept wanting to mention it.

-

Foggy's birthday came and went. Matt gave him a signed copy of a book by his favourite Supreme Court Justice and a bobblehead of the Daredevil. Also signed, which they both found hilarious.

Never mind the fact that Matt hadn't remembered Foggy's birthday in upwards a decade and a half.

Mike got him a newly tailored suit and Foggy's favourite cake from uptown. And a weekend getaway at a cottage in Rhode Island.

But it wasn't a competition. Really.

-

Foggy spent less and less time with Matt, but that's just the nature of these things. Matt very visibly minded, though, so they planned a short trip together. Something away from the city.

"And it doesn't bother you that he has a shotgun?" Matt questioned as he batted away some mosquitoes. Only three more miles on this hike.

"Yeah, a bit. But he doesn't use it on people. He shot down a duck and we cooked it together."

"And how was it?"

"Honestly? Freshest meat I've had," Foggy sighed, mouth watering at the memory. "There's something to be said about the ritual of preparing game. Thank God I have experience in the meat biz, though. I think Mike's a bit squeamish when it comes to blood and guts."

"So it's getting pretty serious, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess." Foggy stopped to admire the stream as it warbled around the rocks. "I just feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Matt smacked his calf as something landed on it. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It feels unreal, you know? This is  _ Mike Murdock  _ we're talking about. When you were him, there were always antics afoot. This Mike doesn't get up to nearly as many antics."

"And you prefer it that way?" Matt asked heavily.

"I don't know. It feels like I'm in a bubble. I'm just anticipating the next thing. Something's gotta go wrong soon, right?"

It took a lot of generosity for Matt to say what he said next. "I think maybe if you're looking for ways it could go wrong, it's bound to happen eventually. If it's working out for you, I say, don't question it too much."

"Thanks, Matt," Foggy said as he started hiking again. "I know how hard that was for you to say."

"If you're happy, I'm happy, Fogs."

Foggy smiled at him. And they trudged on together.

-

Except Foggy's instincts have always been quite sharp. The other shoe did drop. It only took another month and a half.

And like many other times, Foggy was being held at gunpoint by some not very nice men who also worked happened to work for Fisk. He was tied up and gagged, sitting directly opposite from Mike, who seemed very agitated. The basement was dark and dingy, but still, he insisted on wearing his shades. Perhaps to hide the fear.

"Do we have a deal, then, Mr. Murdock?" Wesley asked, dusting his black briefcase with a clean, white napkin.

"Let Foggy go and we can talk about it some more," he snarled.

"Then what, praytell, would we use as leverage?" the weasel of a man noted, calm as a morning stroll. He made a motion at the goon and he raised his gun to Foggy's temple. Still, Foggy refused to tear his eyes away from Mike. He tracked Mike’s sweat as it rolled down his face and matted his hair.

"Deal or no deal? And keep in mind your contract does have a clause for failure to comply."

Mike's face twisted in that signature Murdock way. He had just never seen it on Mike before. “Let. Him. Go.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then there’s still no deal. I’m not doing that shit for Fisk anymore.”

“Then we must regretfully sever you from the company.” Wesley made another motion and the gun shifted to Mike.

But suddenly, Mike was out of the seat he was tied to, smashing it hard on the table between them and splitting it at its roughly fitted seams. It came apart like nothing and Mike threw a piece of wood at the goon, knocking him out. He grabbed what was once two legs of the chair and started beating his way through the entourage.

When everyone was on the ground, he helped Foggy out of his gag. A rag, now soaked through with spittle and blood. “Are you okay?”

“Matt…? What the hell…?”

Matt untied him roughly and pulled him upright with harsh fingers. “Let’s get out of here first. You’re not safe yet.”

Matt guided him out of the building, occasionally instructing him to stay put while he entered a room and telling him to follow along once his suit had gathered yet more blood.

They flew upwards and out the door, not stopping to breathe until they were safe inside a taxi. The cabbie hardly gave them a glance. Never live in New York, folks.

“Where’s Mike?” Foggy breathed.

“Wow, not even a thanks,” Matt said sourly, wiping his forehead and smearing the schmutz. The schmutz was blood, in case that needed clarification.

“I mean, yes, holy shit, thank you so much, Matt, I owe you my life, but what’s new? Where’s Mike?” Foggy asked again.

-

They wound up in Matt’s apartment where Mike Murdock was doing his darndest to bore a hole through Matt’s floor with his mind. He was disheveled. Shirt untucked and rolled up to his elbows, patterned slacks sitting at his hips sans belt, barefoot, and bare-faced. The picture of a man, deconstructed.

His worried eyes found Foggy and Mike lept at him, clinging onto him like a final request.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered, over and over. They collapsed onto the floor and Mike breathed little kisses onto Foggy. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Matt, ever the rain cloud, sat at his couch like a puddle and drank from a bottle of beer. “I’m also glad everyone’s safe,” he grumbled.

Mike crawled his way to him and sat at his feet. “Thank you, Matt. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Just don’t get Foggy in a situation like that ever again,” the man said by way of dismissal.

Mike nodded solemnly and turned to Foggy. “Actually, I’ve been giving it some thought while you were away. I think it’d be best for us to stop seeing each other.”

Foggy ran out of breath. “What?!”

“I just mean, I’m living a lifestyle that suits me, and you’re just too good for me. I don’t want to be the one to corrupt you.”

“Mike,” Foggy started to say, but he didn’t have a way to complete that thought.

“Foggy. Listen, we’ve had some fun times, and I admire you a lot. But I know you didn’t go into this wanting anything serious. I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Mike.” Foggy made his way over to the man and cupped his face. “I’m sorry we didn’t work out.”

“Me, too.” Mike smiled sadly and closed the distance between them. “I love you,” he said when they parted. “Sorry. And goodbye.” He left the apartment shakily, and Foggy had the distinct impression that he was on his way to sign the contract, even despite the ordeal.

Foggy sat on the floor and rested his back on the couch. He closed his eyes for a few moments, listening to Matt breathe. He was almost meditating.

“Well, I guess that’s a weird chapter in your life over with,” Matt concluded, setting his empty bottle on the table beside him. Foggy took the time to glare at him, because he was having some real feelings at the moment.

Then, Foggy laughed a little hysterically. “You look ridiculous in checkered yellow, buddy.”

“This is Mike’s shirt. This is what you dated for the past eight months.”

Foggy kept laughing, but eventually it turned into open weeping.

“Matty, I want to be drunk right now.”

“Okay, Foggy. Whatever you want. Anything at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes in case it wasn't clear: yes, Matt's weird half-formed fantasies about having an alter ego that dated Foggy became part of Mike's backstory. Yes, matt still likes Foggy, like a lot. And Foggy likes him back, but it's like background static that's so constant that it feels like nothing. Maybe they get together later, who knows? (you do, fic reader. please, go forth and spread your headcanons into the ether.)
> 
> i wrote this thing in 3 days i'm sorry to spam you guys holy shit. lmk if you wanna read other things from me, i write like a madman. i feel like i just have one idea over and over again.
> 
> [ as always feel free to drop by on tumblr ](https://artbymintcookies.tumblr.com/)


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